


These Are Better Days

by die_traumerei



Series: Sing Home and Be Free [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, chubby!bucky barnes, emphasis on the comfort, recovering Bucky Barnes, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has a bad day, and deals as best he can. Steve helps, as best he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Are Better Days

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, frankly, because I had a really shit day and felt very down about myself and my body and a lot of other things. And because Bucky Barnes can survive anything, and is a really good way to write out feelings, there's this. And it helped.
> 
> It's short and there's not a whole lot of plot, but considering how rough this time of year can be, as the days get so short and the stress and the etc, I decided to post this. If you're having a rough time, I hope it helps you feel a little better. If you're not, I hope you love the coziness and the fluff and the love, too.
> 
> Title is, of course, from the Springsteen song, because I am from Philadelphia that's why.

Bucky Barnes woke up feeling itchy in his own skin.

This happened, sometimes, because of who he was now. What had been shell shock or something no one talked about was now _trauma_ and _PTSD_ and _you're sick, Bucky, that's all, it's like you've got the flu, it's not a reflection on you I_ love _you._

Steve was actually pretty shit at being comforting. Or rather, it was like being comforted by a tank. Which was kind of nice sometimes. And at other times was like being rolled over by a Panzer.

Not being in the mood for warfare, Bucky took to the streets; about half the time a good run sorted him out. He jogged through the quiet streets, headed for Prospect Park, and waited for the runner's high to hit.

And remembered that, the other half of the time, he just felt like shit and was sweaty and gross. He was strong as fuck and could keep going forever, but he was also hyper-aware of how much weight he was dragging through space, and how _real_ he was and it just...didn't help.

Bucky prodded six miles out of his reluctant body and returned to his and Steve's apartment covered in sweat and feeling about as gross as possible. And sad. And ugly. And like all his past was pressing down on him.

The shower didn't help much either. Changing into sweatpants and Steve's giant hoodie and crawling into bed helped a little, but mostly...fuck. He was fat and lazy and gross, and he hoped this counted as self-care. It was about all he could manage.

“Hey.”

Bucky figured he'd drifted off; he should have heard Steve come in and sit on the side of the bed. Bad, if he was that un-aware. Well, at least he wasn't hyper-observant this time?

“Hey.” He rubbed his eyes. “You need me for somethin'?”

“No, love, not like that. Bad day?” Steve started to rub his back. It felt okay.

“Mmmph.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” Slow, steady strokes down his back. Steve was very warm. “I'm sorry, baby.”

Bucky shrugged. Wasn't Steve's fault that Bucky was fucked in the head.

“Can I join you?”

Oh God. Steve was trying to be gentle. Steven Grant Rogers, the human disaster area, was being _gentle_ with Bucky, the one human being who definitely did not deserve anything of the sort.

Bucky moved over, because he was a shitheel who was greedy. This would make a warm memory, someday, when he needed it. When he was alone again, he'd pull this out and turn it over and remember that someone once loved him.

“Thanks.” Steve crawled under the covers and curled up facing Bucky, but not touching him. “What's going through that head of yours?”

Bucky shrugged, and pulled himself into a little ball under the covers, knees to chest.

Steve wrapped his arms around the Bucky-ball, and kissed his head. “S'okay. It's all okay, love.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Steve shrugged. “So what? I mean, I disagree, but even if you were right, which you _aren't_...I want _you_.”

“Still should have better.”

“There is no better,” Steve said firmly. “And I don't care what you think, this is what I want.”

Bucky had to laugh at Steve's petulance. It was probably exaggerated for the sole purpose of annoying Bucky, and it was working, but still.

“I'm fat and lazy.”

Steve shot upright, genuinely angry at this. Bucky was mildly proud to have gotten a reaction out of him. “Fuck off. What you are is not half-dead from malnourishment. You're the hardest-working man I know, and you always have been.” He cupped Bucky's face in his hands. “If you want to lose some weight, go for it. But do it because you want, not because you think it makes you ugly.” He smiled softly. “You know damn well how much you're happy in your body. And how much _I_ love your body, for that matter.”

“Yeah, I know, y'never shut up about it.” Bucky uncurled a little. He didn't hate his belly, the soft double chin, the flesh on his thighs and backside. Not really...not most of the time. Only when it was something to add to the litany.

“Uh huh.” Steve said. “Don't plan to, either.” He kissed Bucky's forehead. “What else is in your head?”

“Mostly air.”

“Oh my God, that's not even clever.”

Bucky laughed, and it sounded a little rusty, but Steve was smiling, so it was okay. It was. “Just feeling like the Soldier's too close. Feeling my past, today.”

Steve finger-combed Bucky's hair. “I'm sorry, baby,” he said softly. “That's always rough.”

Bucky nodded. “Gonna hide in bed for awhile.”

“Hide as long as you need.” Steve leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You're really taking care of yourself, you know.”

“Running and showering didn't work. That leaves being pathetic.”

“Hey.” Steve lay down again and pulled Bucky into his arms. For someone doing an imitation of a tank, he was pretty cozy. “You're not pathetic. You're strong and you're working really hard. If you'd broken your leg, of course you'd be in bed resting. This isn't different.”

“No I wouldn't, I'd have healed in like a few hours.”

“Try a few days.” Steve gave him a little pinch. “What if it was me?”

“That is not a valid argument.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I say so,” Bucky said. “Also...Steve, I love you. I know you have your own demons. But the Soldier...”

“I know. There's no comparison. Which is why you're so much stronger than me,” Steve murmured, stroking Bucky's back. “Shh, you are. You've built yourself a new life, worked with your past and made this gorgeous, wonderful man out of it.” He hugged Bucky a little too tightly. “'m so proud to know you.”

“Steve, shut up and just lie here with me?” Bucky asked, not a little desperately.

“Okay, but I'm still right,” Steve said because he didn't know how to stop, but he did quiet. He tucked Bucky a little more firmly into his arms, just holding him close. And it didn't matter how heavy Bucky was, how much space he took up. It didn't matter that he was useless for anything else. It didn't _matter_.

Steve fell asleep, and Bucky listened to his slow heartbeat, breathing in time with it. His stomach growled, and he pointedly ignored it. Food usually didn't happen on these bad days. It would upset Steve, but they got by. And he couldn't. He just...couldn't.

 

Steve woke easy an hour or so later, yawning and kissing the top of Bucky's head. “Hey gorgeous.”

Bucky had to smile at that, and uncurled himself, trying to give Steve something, even something as pathetic as a proper hug.

“Oh, love.” Steve's grin was dizzying, and he hugged Bucky back like he was made of porcelain. “You want something to eat?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Okay.” Another soft kiss, nuzzled into Bucky's chin. “I'm gonna get something for myself. You want a cup of tea or anything?”

“Coffee?”

“Can do.” Another nuzzly kiss, one more, and Steve pulled himself away. He came back with a bagel piled with cream cheese for himself and the largest mug of coffee Bucky had ever seen, and handed the mug over.

Bucky sipped at it, and smiled. “Is there any coffee in with the cream and sugar?”

“Li'l bit.” Steve grinned and kissed Bucky sweetly. “Good?”

“Perfect.” It would get calories into him, it was warm and soothing and comforting. He sat up against the headboard and sipped, feeling companionable and safe while Steve devoured, at a guess, an entire block of cream cheese.

He knew better than to offer any to Bucky – on days like this, that ended badly – but he did lie down with his head pillowed on Bucky's tummy when he was done. And gave a very obvious, happy sigh.

“I know, I know. I make a great pillow,” Bucky said, poking him in the back of the head.

“Uh _huh_ ,” Steve sighed happily. “Sexiest pillow I know.”

“You don't even make sense, y'know that?”

“Mmhmm.” Steve squirmed happily, snuggling closer and wrapping his arms around Bucky's thighs. “My Bucky.”

“Yeah, pal. Yours.” Bucky rested his head on Steve's rough hair, and sipped what he suspected was an actual soup bowl of coffee. It was a shitty day, but there would be good ones again too. And he had a warm bed and something good to drink; he was safe and, against all odds, loved. Even if it all felt wrong and undeserved he had these things and they helped. Like the fucking moron in his lap, they promised better days.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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